Time Flies When You've Lived Your Life
by once-there-was-a-dragon
Summary: Yet on the third carriage from the back, nearly hidden within the crowd, an elderly man sat. Dressed in an expense wrinkled suit, and plain black winter jacket with scarf tied tightly round his neck. He looked outwards to the city, neck slightly bent to the left, watching the world whizz by through a scratched and dirty window. (Cover image belongs to phantheraglama!)


**DISCLAIMER!: Firstly,** **I SERIOUSLY DON'T OWN THIS COVER IMAGE!** **I really want to make this clear so I don't receive any negative feedback for the use of it! It belongs to the amazing phantheraglama/tumblr/com, which if you haven't already, should definitely check out! (She's an amazing artist and seriously awesome person! ^-^) That's kinda my lil' shout out.**

 **And secondly, I claim no rights to danisnotonfire or amazingphil branding, nor claim that what I write is real in any sense. This is merely fiction.**

 **WARNINGS!: Ok, so though this doesn't have, to what I see, any major warnings to be listed, I feel that this could be seen as maybe a lil' bit sad. So I just going to warn you in case if you're triggered by this. And as always, if you are then** ** _please, please don't read._** **Your safety comes first.**

 **A/N: Hey there my fellow peoples! I'm just popping in to say please enjoy! And that I'm aware I'm not the greatest writer, but hey! Practise is the key to improvement! ^-^ Anyways, enjoy! =D**

It was another grey day in the city. Clouds blocked out the sun, and the warmth which it provided. The city though continued, like it always did, and always will. Crowds of people trudged the streets, all dressed in black; head to foot. The only difference of today was that everyone wore coats and scarfs to lock out the cold world and all the people too.

The term 'rat race' is often used to describe such a place, and quite honesty, all the people that lived there would most certainly agree. For this urban forest is none other than an organised mess, with its over populated floor, crowded with so many tiny insects and controlled by predators which want nothing more than to drain the very souls of all for live there. It's a maze of traffic, congestion and pollution creating a haze made fog, blinding these people of truth. And it's all walled in, sealed away by towering concrete giants; their cold exterior only trapping hopes below and hardly ever allowing any to rise above the artificial sky line they've created. It's a rat race. A race of people trying to believing in something better but never being able to achieve it.

In the heart of urban area, a train made its rounds. Steadily cutting its way through the many corners. It was packed, as usual. Hordes of business women and men crowded the carriages along with the occasional young adult with no sense of purpose. If silence were emotion, this train surely was it. Blank faces, stern expressions and, black bags under their eyes were only gloomy features present.

Yet on the third carriage from the back, nearly hidden within the crowd, an elderly man sat. Dressed in an expense wrinkled suit, and plain black winter jacket with scarf tied tightly round his neck. He looked outwards to the city, neck slightly bent to the left, watching the world whizz by through a scratched and dirty window. His face held no emotion. Chocolate coloured eyes were the only thing that lit up his face which held stories of laughter through the crinkled corners of his eyes. His lips sat tightly shut, pale and stretched into a tight thin line. It practically contrasted his hands that sat loosely on his lap, holding a bouquet of the brightest blue flowers.

He sat there, half slumped over in the worn grey seat which was missing a chunk of plastic. And if you hadn't ever known this man, and all the wonder he had given, and all the wonder he was given, you would have never of guess that he was one of the few that had escaped this rat race.

But that my friend, was long time ago. Back in the time were the internet could be made a home and where he made his life; where he, with help, was able to carve out a life of happiness and make something of himself- to scratch an infinite universe, to leave behind something great. But he would never really appreciate just how much great he did.

And he had grown. Wisen by mistakes, guided by love, and aged with memories.

With so many memories. So many happy memories that glowed with warmth and kept a fire burning within him. Memories of his friends, events, and mainly, of his lover. He could practically feel his shinning blue eyes and lopsided grin with his tongue half poking out, looking at him. His mind was filled of framed moments that not even a photograph could capture, of this man. So many that the sheer jump of emotion caused a stray tear to roll over the winkled skin of his cheek and drop to his clothed knee.

The brown eyed man was stumbled back to reality when the train came to halt. All the happy memories seeped from his mind as his heart dropped. Taking a shaky breath he stood; and he made his way past the oblivious to automatic doors at a steady pace. He stepped out into the city air which whipped circles around him, like wolves circling their prey. And he walked.

He walked for a few miles, past old shops and boarded up houses. Past groups of 'wanna be' gangsters and stray cats with missing chunks of fur. All the way from the near run down station to the gates of an old grave yard. To the iron railings that were curved in sharp patterns with rusted hinges that creaked when the old man open them. He gripped tightly his flowers, using both hands as though he was sure that they could disappear; and he ascended into the grounds.

The man felt a lump in his throat and his legs start wobble as his past the gravestones of the forgotten. Some looked new with the polish stone standing out from the rest the corroded grave markers. Yet, they all looked so lonely, as they were the harsh reminder that one day every life would be forgotten.

The old man stopped by a grave stone, wonky with age. He knelt, slowly, letting his knee drop to rain soaked mud and ran a shaky winkled finger over the corroded lettering; far too eroded to read by now. Tears stung his tired eyes as pain lapped at his worn heart. Refusing to let himself cry he brushed them away with the back of his hand.

With a shaky breath he brought forth the blue flowers; and with a tears glistening in his eyes, he placed them at the base of the gravestone; and with effort he stood.

Time seemed to slow down as his glaze remained on the block of eroded stone; it no longer whizzed by like the late business man, or like young adult with no sense of purpose. But now it buzzed, more a humble bumble-bee pace, far away in a world of its own. It was so that the old man hadn't notice another figure, dressed it an rather ironic red coat as though to keep the gloom away, gently walk to his side.

Nor did he feel the gentle hand placed on his shoulder.

"Come, Dan," an old voice spoke, "Shall we go get a coffee?" and at last the brown eyed man came back to reality.

He turned his head, forcing himself to look away from the gravestone, and his glaze fell upon something much brighter than this gloomy day: blue.

A brilliant blue. And though age had too wisen the other man's eyes, those eyes still held sunshine and joy, and year's full memories of happiness which caused his sad smile to mean so much more that the action.

And the brown eyed man smile a small back, and taking his also wrinkled hand, left. Leaving the gravestone within this maze, which it stood out as though it would never be forgotten.

"Of course Phil."

 _Julie Elizabeth Howell_

 _1963 -2025_

 **A/N: And to whack in a quote which I really like and feels it fits the mood:**

 _The bad news is that time flies, but the great news?_

 _You're the pilot._

 **Boom. And that's that. Laters.**

 **But seriously, thankyou ever so much for reading! It's really appreciated and I really do love you all! If you have the time, some feedback would be great! And here's your cookie for reading: (::)**

 **Stay safe, dream big xx**

 **~once-there-was-a-dragon x**


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